


5000 Tons of...Root Beer?

by yankeetooter



Category: Chernobyl (TV 2019)
Genre: Gift Giving, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:54:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24797254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yankeetooter/pseuds/yankeetooter
Summary: Boris, good at procuring things, finds another thing to gift Valery with.
Relationships: Valery Legasov/Boris Shcherbina
Comments: 18
Kudos: 20





	5000 Tons of...Root Beer?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alyeen1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alyeen1/gifts).



> Thanks to my friend, Stellan-pip, whose stories always inspire me! ❤️🤗
> 
> I know, this is kind of a silly, fluffy idea, but I needed to write some fluff after my last angsty story.
> 
> I'm also gifting this fic to alyeen1, who needs some cheering up. 🤗🤗

Boris lounged in his chair at the Chernobyl Commission meeting, perfectly relaxed. What reason was there to worry? When news of the accident at Chernobyl had first reached the Kremlin, of course he'd been concerned. But when Gorbachev put him in charge, he immediately relaxed. After all, if they were putting him in charge, it couldn't be serious.

A slightly chubby, nerdy looking man who could only be a scientist entered the room, looking rather uncomfortable. That must be the Professor Legasov he'd spoken with on the phone. He really did appreciate the man coming straight to Moscow on such short notice. He'd be sure to thank him after all this was taken care of. Which, based on the reports from Director Bryukhanov, shouldn't be long at all.

Boris motioned graciously to the seat at the end of the table when Legasov looked lost as to where to go. He noticed a curious behavior on the part of the man as he sat. As distressed as he seemed, Legasov quickly perused the various soft drinks available at the table, then, seemingly disappointed, he looked down as if he hadn't found what he was looking for.

 _How strange!_ Boris thought. Most Soviets were happy to have access to soft drinks and other such luxuries. Was this man going to be so hard to satisfy?

And then the meeting started and it all went downhill from there...

______________________________

It was late the same night that they had arrived in Chernobyl. They should both be in bed; after all, the helicopter drops would be starting the next morning, as soon as the shipments of sand and boron arrived. But Boris felt bad about how things had gone between him and Legasov. 

The meeting had ended on a tense note. Then the helicopter ride..Boris didn't even want to think about that! Things had improved after he'd taken Legasov's side during the confrontation with Bryukhanov and Fomin, and his faith in the man had proved well-founded when Pikalov had returned from getting the radiation readings. But then it had all turned sour again. 

They had quarreled over the immediate evacuation of Pripyat. Boris actually thought Legasov had the right of it. Unfortunately, that decision wasn't up to him, and somehow he was loathe to admit that to the scientist. There had been a bit of hero worship in Legasov's eyes after Boris stood up to those two bullies for him, and Boris didn't want to see it go away. But then the horrible argument over the evacuation had happened, and they were back to square one. The only slight improvement had been when he had rushed off to get Legasov his 5000 tons of sand and boron. That admiration had crept back into the scientist's eyes, if only for a moment...which gave him an idea...

_________________________

So now Boris dropped tiredly onto the sofa in their suite, sitting companionably by Legasov. The man was a mess, chain smoking and frantically looking through some papers.

"Legasov," Boris said gently, "put all that away for now."

Valery looked up in shock. "Boris!" Then he stopped, looking alarmed.

"No, it's okay. Boris it is."

"Well, Boris," (still timidly, as if expecting the deputy chairman to explode again), "there's just too much to do! We have to..." Valery was stopped by Boris taking his flailing hand in his and laying it back down on the couch. 

Boris held Valery's wrist until the man calmed down a bit. "Look, Legasov, it's our first day here, and we're both really tired. We've both been up since early this morning, and we should try to sleep. There's not much we can do at this point anyway."

At the mention of sleep, Valery snorted. "Sleep! Sleep? How can I sleep, Boris, when my mind is racing in a hundred different directions? I can't calm down enough to sleep!"

"Of course, not, Valery!" Boris paused as if to ask the scientist's permission to use his first name. At Valery's nod, he continued. "But let's put all this out of our minds. Tell me about yourself. Some normal conversation will help relax you."

Valery looked skeptical, but nodded his agreement. "Well, there's not much to tell, really. I'm the assistant director..." He stopped when Boris held up his hand.

"I know all that, Valery. Tell me things about you that I wouldn't know."

Valery blushed a little. He really didn't like to talk about himself, not that there was much to say. And people didn't generally want to know about his personal life anyway.

"I...I don't know where to start, Boris."

"Well, what do you like to do in your spare time?"

"Oh, well, I'm always grading papers, and then studying in my field..."

"Stop right there," Boris commanded. "Let's say it's the end of the semester and there are no more papers to grade. You've had your fill of studying. Now what?"

Valery screwed up his face trying to think. "Well, sometimes I go for a walk. Oh, and I like poetry. Sometimes," and here the blush crept back onto his face, "sometimes I even try to write some of my own."

Boris looked at Valery in admiration. "I'd like to hear one of your poems sometime, Valery."

"Oh no, Boris! That is, well, I mean, they're not very good! And anyway, I don't have any of them memorized, and," Valery was thinking fast on his feet now, "they're all back at my apartment. So you see, I'm afraid I can't!" He looked at Boris, hoping he would be satisfied with his reasoning. "Oh, and I play the piano from time to time." That should be safe to tell Boris. There were definitely no pianos at a nuclear disaster.

Boris nodded absentmindedly, lost in thought. Maybe he could drag Valery on a walk while here. That should be easy enough. And he could get Valery a book of poetry easily enough, but who knew what he'd already read? A piano? No, he didn't think even he could get one of those shipped in. He needed to try a different tack.

A memory from the meeting distracted him momentarily. "Valery, put down those cigarettes. Let's have some vodka! I brought a bottle up here for us."

Valery stubbed out his cigarette and took the proffered glass of vodka. He downed it quickly, but shook his head when Boris made as if to pour another. "Thank you, Boris, but vodka doesn't agree with me all that much."

Boris jumped at the opening. "Then what do you like, Valery? Apparently not soft drinks!"

Valery looked puzzled, then realized what Boris must be referring to. "Oh, you must have noticed at the meeting. Yes, well, it's silly, but I really prefer only one type of soft drink, but it's nearly impossible to find, even in Moscow." 

At Boris' raised eyebrow, he continued. "Have you ever heard of root beer, Boris?" At the deputy chairman's blank look, he tried to describe it, but how do you describe something like root beer? 

"So, it's beer of some sort?" Boris asked, trying hard to understand.

"No, there's no alcohol. In fact, I don't know why they call it that. But it's my favorite!"

A small smile crept over Valery's face, which absolutely mesmerized Boris. The man was downright adorable when he smiled!

Valery suddenly yawned. "I'm sorry Boris, but you were right. All this talk has relaxed me, and I think I better go to bed."

Boris nodded, distracted by the thought of how he was ever going to find Valery some root beer.

__________________________

Boris tried so hard to find Valery his root beer. He asked Pikalov and Tarakanov, both of whom had never heard of it before. He called all the local store owners in Kiev, hoping maybe they sold it and it had just always escaped his notice. He contacted Moscow and made inquiries, but no luck.

One day, Valery wandered by the work trailer, taking a smoke break. Boris preferred he not smoke in the trailer, so he usually left out. Of course, he suspected Boris said that to make him get up and take a break; otherwise, Valery might never leave his desk.

As he got nearer, he heard Boris yelling on the phone. Valery couldn't hear what Boris was saying, but it was clear that Boris was very upset. _Oh dear, something about the exclusion zone, no doubt!_ Valery steered clear of the trailer. Boris would never take his anger out on him, but he still hated seeing the man so upset and angry. He would have been very surprised to find out what had Boris screaming into the phone, though.

"Of course I know they're listening! I want them to hear! We're out here dying, we're burning! I can't even get Legasov to take a break and go back to Moscow for a while to recover! And you tell me you can get me some root beer, but now you say it's not coming! You tell your f***ing supplier he'd better figure out to send it!" Boris hung up and threw the phone across the room, walking over to stomp on it. He just wanted to do something for Valery, damnit!

Picking up the phone, he walked outside. He tossed the mangled machine to a nearby guard. "We'll need a new phone." he said, all the anger gone as quickly as it had come.

_________________

It was the night after the naked miner "incident", and Valery was still in a funk. Boris started to offer him a shot of vodka, then thought, _why bother?_ Valery wouldn't be any more receptive of the drink then he had the night before. If only...

A sudden knock on the door of the trailer roused Boris from his thoughts. Tarakanov was at the door, carrying an unmarked crate of something. "This just came in for you, all the way from Germany." Tarakanov said. Nikolai was curious, no doubt, but it wasn't his way to pry, so he asked no questions.

And for once, Boris felt like keeping Valery's secret surprise a mystery. So he thanked Nikolai, took the case from him and said good night. He glanced over at Valery, who as usual was buried in paperwork.

"How about a drink, Valera?"

Valery shook his head tiredly. "Thank you Boris, but I've too much work to do." He gaped when Boris approached the desk with an empty glass and began pouring a can of root beer into the glass in front of him. Valery leaped out of his seat and wrapped his arms around Boris so fiercely he nearly knocked the both of them over.

"Borya! Is that what I think it is? How did you...? Is it really...?"

Boris was beaming from ear to ear at the sight of Valery being so happy. Who would have thought that something so mundane as this root beer could bring a man such joy?

"It took a while, Valera, but I found some and had it sent here. There's a whole case!"

"Oh, Boris!" Valery was practically dancing around the room in happiness. "You did that for me? But of course, if anyone could find it, it would be you! Oh, thank you, Boris, thank you!"

Valery invited Boris to try his precious root beer and so Boris sat a few minutes later, looking suspiciously at the fizzing soda in his glass. He gingerly took a sip, then nodded and said, "Yes, it's very nice!" But when Valery wasn't looking, he poured the rest of his portion in the scientist's glass. _Blechh! Give me vodka any day!_

Valery looked back at Boris and noticed his empty glass. Hesitatingly, he asked, "Oh, did you want some more? You must really like it!" But there was a look in Valery's eyes that said he really didn't want to give up any more of his precious root beer, and Boris was all too happy to reply, "No, no, Valera, it's for you! I got it for you!" He laughed to himself when he saw the relieved look in Valery's eyes. He was rather relieved himself that he wouldn't have to drink any more.

_______________

Boris was never quite sure later that Valery didn't appreciate the root beer just a tiny bit more than the lunar rovers...but no, that was silly! 

\--------------------

But alas, life is not all lunar rovers and root beer, and happy times must come to an end. Thus, a year later and sometime after the trial. Valery Legasov has been isolated from everything that meant so much to him, but most especially from Boris.

And that is the hardest thing of all. Memories are dear things, but they are no substitute for our love being with us. And Valery didn't have that any more. He never even heard of how Boris was doing. Had the man succumbed to his illness, dying alone in some isolated hospital ward? Or had he moved on with his life? 

Valery didn't know what else there was to live for, without Boris in his life. The tapes were all but finished, and would be whisked off to his contact soon enough. Hopefully, their presence in the scientific community would spark change, but Valery knew he would never be allowed to be a part of that directly. No, there was nothing else keeping him going. His piano stood silently in the corner, unplayed and out of tune. His books of poetry sat dusty and forgotten on the shelf. He hadn't read them in ages, let alone tried to write anything. 

All the joys of life had disappeared with one silver-haired apparatchik. If only he could have some sign that Boris was okay! Some sort of message that Boris still thought about him, still cared about him! But no, it was simply too dangerous. Even if Boris was still alive, he could never visit Valery.

There was a knock on the door. No doubt Misha with his evening post. Nearer the beginning of his isolation, his heart had leapt at the sound of knocking on the door, always hoping it was Boris. But he knew better now. His hope had faded.

It was Misha, of course, who handed him his mail and then placed a large crate on the floor. "I've been told to deliver this to you." he announced, then turned and left just as quickly.

 _What in the world?_ Valery knelt down and opened the crate, tears springing to his eyes at the sight of the contents. Several cases of root beer were nestled in the crate! _Boris! Could it be? Of course! He'd never shared his silly secret with anyone else. Boris was okay, and still thinking of him!_

Dashing the tears from his eyes, Valery grabbed a glass of ice from the kitchen and one of the precious cans of root beer, and sat down at his desk. Suddenly he wanted to write! But what? A poem, of course! A poem about his beloved!

The End!


End file.
